I had driven all night and was desperately in need of coffee to continue my cross-country jaunt, so I took the first convenient exit from the freeway and found myself in the most ethnic avenue of East St. Louis. I parked at the first fast-food joint I could find, and entered, noticing that my lily-white face looked a bit out-of-place. Strolling to the counter, I said, "I need the largest cup of black coffee you've got." The girl behind the counter gave a weary sigh, and fixing her eyes intently on mine, asked in a accusatory tone, "You mean 'plain'?"
Now I could have told her that my brother fell in love and married a black woman from the heart of dixie, and that my neices and nephew were unmistakably of African descent, or that my son had married a Chilean woman, or that my step-grandson is half-chinese, half-japanese, or that my BFF was a chicano fellow raised in a two room shack with his ten siblings in the "barrio". I could have tried to reassure her that, irrespective of whatever mistreatment she had endured in her twenty-something years of life in a society wherein systematic racism is rampant, - that In my heart, I saw her with the eyes of Jesus, and treasured her humanity, and would accept the content of her character as the only criterion wherewith to estimate her value.
But it was early and I was tired. "Plain is perfect!", I replied.
The proper response would have been "No, I mean black. You know, coffee without cream, sugar, or ludicrous judgment from an idiot child." But I've been on quite a few long hauls myself and understand just wanting your coffee perfectly well.
(Score: 3, Interesting) by nostyle on Friday September 18 2020, @05:29PM (3 children)
I had driven all night and was desperately in need of coffee to continue my cross-country jaunt, so I took the first convenient exit from the freeway and found myself in the most ethnic avenue of East St. Louis. I parked at the first fast-food joint I could find, and entered, noticing that my lily-white face looked a bit out-of-place. Strolling to the counter, I said, "I need the largest cup of black coffee you've got." The girl behind the counter gave a weary sigh, and fixing her eyes intently on mine, asked in a accusatory tone, "You mean 'plain'?"
Now I could have told her that my brother fell in love and married a black woman from the heart of dixie, and that my neices and nephew were unmistakably of African descent, or that my son had married a Chilean woman, or that my step-grandson is half-chinese, half-japanese, or that my BFF was a chicano fellow raised in a two room shack with his ten siblings in the "barrio". I could have tried to reassure her that, irrespective of whatever mistreatment she had endured in her twenty-something years of life in a society wherein systematic racism is rampant, - that In my heart, I saw her with the eyes of Jesus, and treasured her humanity, and would accept the content of her character as the only criterion wherewith to estimate her value.
But it was early and I was tired. "Plain is perfect!", I replied.
(Score: 2) by The Mighty Buzzard on Saturday September 19 2020, @02:18PM (2 children)
The proper response would have been "No, I mean black. You know, coffee without cream, sugar, or ludicrous judgment from an idiot child." But I've been on quite a few long hauls myself and understand just wanting your coffee perfectly well.
My rights don't end where your fear begins.
(Score: 3, Funny) by nostyle on Saturday September 19 2020, @08:27PM (1 child)
Okay, I get it. For you, Black Coffee Matters.
For me, All Coffee Matters - even the plain kind.
In fact, maybe what the whole country needs now is a good cup of Joe.
(Score: 2) by The Mighty Buzzard on Saturday September 19 2020, @09:39PM
Nice. That got an actual verbal chuckle out of me.
My rights don't end where your fear begins.